Ella Wheeler Wilcox Quotations

With every deed you are sowing a seed, though the harvest you may not see.

And the smile that is worth the praises of earth is the smile that shines through tears.

Always continue the climb. It is possible for you to do whatever you choose, if you first get to know who you are and are willing to work with a power that is greater than ourselves to do it.

Let there be many windows to your soul, that all the glory of the world may beautify it.

Love lights more fires than hate extinguishes, and men grow better as the world grows old.

When we tire of well-worn ways, we seek for new. This restless craving in the souls of men spurs them to climb, and to seek the mountain view.

So many gods, so many creeds, so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs.

One ship drives east and other drives west by the same winds that blow. It's the set of the sails and not the gales that determines the way they go.

There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul.

'Tis the set of the sail that decides the goal, and not the storm of life.

A pat on the back is only a few vertebrae removed from a kick in the pants, but is miles ahead in results.

Give us that grand word 'woman' once again, and let's have done with 'lady'; one's a term full of fine force, strong, beautiful, and firm, fit for the noblest use of tongue or pen; and one's a word for lackeys.

For an actress to be a success, she must have the face of Venus, the brains of a Minerva, the grace of Terpsichore, the memory of a Macaulay, the figure of Juno, and the hide of a rhinoceros.

All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon the sand.

It has ever been since time began, and ever will be, till time lose breath, that love is a mood - no more - to man, and love to a woman is life or death.

The spark divine dwells in thee: let it grow.

The truest greatness lies in being kind, the truest wisdom in a happy mind.

'Tis easy enough to be pleasant, When life flows along like a song; But the man worth while is the one who will smile when everything goes dead wrong.

You may choose your words like a connoisseur, And polish it up with art, But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays, Is the word that comes from the heart.

The splendid discontent of God With chaos made the world. And from the discontent of man The worlds best progress springs.

With care, and skill, and cunning art, She parried Time's malicious dart, And kept the years at bay, Till passion entered in her heart and aged her in a day!

The man who radiates good cheer, who makes life happier wherever he meets it, is always a man of vision and faith.

Unwearied, and with springing steps elate, I had conveyed my wealth along the road. The empty sack proved now a heavier load: I was borne down beneath its worthless weight. I stumbled on, and knocked at Death's dark gate. There was no answer. Stung by sorrow's goad I forced my way into that grim abode, And laughed, and flung Life's empty sack to Fate. ...

That each sorrow has its purpose, By the sorrowing oft unguessed, But as sure as the sun brings morning, Whatever is-is best.

I will not doubt, though sorrows fall like rain, And troubles swarm like bees about a hive; I shall believe the heights for which I strive Are only reached by anguish and by pain; And though I groan and tremble with my crosses, I yet shall see, through my severest losses, The greater gain.

'Tis they who are in their own chambers haunted By thoughts that like unbidden guests intrude, And sit down, uninvited and unwanted, And make a nightmare of the solitude.

Talk not of the river or lake To those who have looked on the sea.

How will it be when one of us alone Goes on that strange last journey of the soul? That certain search for an uncertain goal, That voyage on which no comradeship is known?...

Know that you are great...so dominate.

I was as pure as the morning When I first looked on your face; I knew I never could reach you In your high, exalted place...

God made poor woman with no heart, But gave her skill, and tact, and art, And so she lives, and plays her part. We must not blame, but pity her...

Better than glory, or honors, or fame, (Though I am striving for those to-day) To know that some heart will cherish my name, And think of me kindly, with blessings, alway.

Slipping away are the hopes that made Bliss out of sorrow, and sun out of shade, Slipping away is our hold on life; And out of the struggle and wearing strife...

Wiped the cold dew-drops from his cheek And sought the mourner's side again. "Once more, dear lady, I must speak: Your last remaining son was slain Just at the closing of the fight; Twas he who sent me here to-night." "God knows," the man said afterward, "The fight itself was not so hard."

And she has a thousand virtues and not one acknowledged sin, But she is the sort of person you could liken to a pin. And she pricks you, and she sticks you, in a way that can't be said, When you seek for what has hurt you, why, you cannot find the head.

The sin and the shame and the sorrow, The crime and the want and the woe That are born there in your workshop, No hand can paint, you know...

Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide. On outgoing billows it drifts from your sight, But back on the incoming waves it may ride And land at your threshold again before night. Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide...

God, what a world, if men in street and mart felt that same kinship of the human heart which makes them, in the face of fire and flood, rise to the meaning of true brotherhood.

Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear As valued friends. He cannot know The zest of life who runneth here His earthly race without a foe...

There are ghosts in the room. As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there They come out of the gloom, And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair...

Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be proving Thy strong regard for me, Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving; Let thy faith speak for thee...

Why dost thou shrink from my approach, O Man? Why dost thou ever flee in fear, and cling To my false rival, Life? I do but bring Thee rest and calm. Then wherefore dost thou ban And curse me? Since the forming of God's plan I have not hurt or harmed a mortal thing, I have bestowed sweet balm for every sting, And peace eternal for earth's stormy span...

Mourn not for the vanished ages with their grand, heroic men, who dwell in history's pages and live in the poets pen for the grandest times are before us and the world is yet to see the noblest work of this old earth in the men that are to be.

My life's long radiant Summer halts at last, And lo! beside my path way I behold Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold Has heralded her presence; but a vast Sweet calm that comes not till the year has passed Its fevered solstice, and a tinge of gold Subdues the vivid colouring of bold And passion-hued emotions. I will cast My August days behind me with my May, Nor strive to drag them into Autumn's place, Nor swear I hope when I do but remember. Now violet and rose have had their day, I'll pluck the soberer asters with good grace And call September nothing but September.

I know there are no errors, In the great Eternal plan.

Change is the watchword of progression.

The world has a thousand creeds, and never a one have I; Nor church of my own, though a million spires are pointing the way on high. But I float on the bosom of faith, that bears me along like a river; And the lamp of my soul is alight with love, for life, and the world, and the Giver.

Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go, They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many; Be sad, and you lose them all,-- There are none to decline your nectar'd wine, But alone you must drink life's gall.

The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer, The headstones thicken along the way; And life grows sadder, but love grows stronger For those who walk with us day by day.

But though that place I never gain, Herein lies comfort for my pain: I will be worthy of it.

Content is not the pathway to great deeds.

It has always been my belief that children inherit the suppressed tendencies of their parents. A clergyman's son frequently shows abnormal tastes for the pleasures that his father denied himself ...

A day which passed without a poem from my pen I considered lost and misused.

... love moves the world along.

Love is the only duty that we know ...

Keep out of the past. It is haunted.

Trust in your own untried capacity.

It is time that outraged public sentiment cry out in detestation of the outrages committed in the name of religion.

One bitter time of mourning, I remember, When day, and night, my sad heart did complain, My life, I said, was one cold, bleak December, And all its pleasures, were but whited pain...

I think I never passed so sad an hour, Dear friend, as that one at the church to-night. The edifice from basement to the tower Was one resplendent blaze of coloured light...

And let its meaning permeate Whatever comes, This too shall pass away.

Time loves a new lay; and the dirge he is playing Will change for you soon to a livelier strain.

Time is the best avenger.

Say you are well, or all is well with you, and God shall hear your words and make them true.

Moon and Sea You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea: The tide of hope swells high within my breast, And hides the rough dark rocks of life's unrest When your fond eyes smile near in perigee. But when that loving face is turned from me, Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear, And earth's dim coast-line seems a thing to fear. You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea.

We two make banquets of the plainest fare In every cup we find the thrill of pleasure... For us life always moves with lilting measure We two, we two, we make our world, our pleasure

Feast, and your halls are crowded Fast, and the world goes by Succeed and give, and it helps you live But no man can help you die

For this is wisdom- to love and live To take what fate or the Gods may give, To ask no question, to make no prayer, To kiss the lips and caress the hair, Speed passion's ebb as we greet its flow, To have and to hold, and, in time--let go.

One ship drives east and another drives west With the selfsame winds that blow. Tis the set of the sails And not the gales Which tells us the way to go. Like the winds of the seas are the ways of fate, As we voyage along through the life: Tis the set of a soul That decides its goal, And not the calm or the strife.

We flatter those we scarcely know, We please the fleeting guest; And deal full many a thoughtless blow, To those who love us best. Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. There is new strength, repose of mind, and inspiration in fresh apparel.

The art of being kind is all the world needs.

I knew it the first of the summer, I knew it the same at the end, That you and your love were plighted, But couldn't you be my friend?

There is no sudden entrance into Heaven. Slow is the ascent by the path of Love.

Look in; and learn the wrong, and right, From your own soul's unwritten laws. And when you question, or demur, Let Love be your Interpreter.

And he who has dwelt with his heart alone, Hears all the music in friendship's tone. So better and better I comprehend How sorrow ever would be our friend.

There was hell in her eyes! She was worn and jaded Her soul is at war with the life she has led. As I looked on that face so strangely faded I wonder God did not strike me dead...

Lady beware. Fan not the harmless glow Of admiration into ardent love, Lean not with red curled smiling lips above The flickering spark of sinless flame, and blow, Lest in the sudden waking of desire Thou, like the child, shalt perish in the fire.

It is easy to tell the toiler How best he can carry his pack But no one can rate a burden's weight Until it has been on his back

The passion you forbade my lips to utter Will not be silenced. You must hear it in The sullen thunders when they roll and mutter: And when the tempest nears, with wail and din, I know your calm forgetfulness is broken, And to your heart you whisper, "He has spoken."

Love lights more fire than hate extinguishes.

I think of death as some delightful journey that I shall take when all my tasks are done.

What can be said in New Year rhymes, That's not been said a thousand times? The new years come, the old years go, We know we dream, we dream we know. We rise up laughing with the light, We lie down weeping with the night. We hug the world until it stings, We curse it then and sigh for wings. We live, we love, we woo, we wed, We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead. We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear, And that's the burden of a year.

Whatever is... is best.

There is no language that love does not speak.

There is room in the halls of pleasure for a large and lordly train, but one by one we must all file on through the narrow aisles of pain.

Between the finite and the infinite The missing link of Love has left a void. Supply the link, and earth with Heaven will join In one continued chain of endless life.

Hell is wherever Love is not, and Heaven Is Love's location. No dogmatic creed, No austere faith based on ignoble fear Can lead thee into realms of joy and peace. Unless the humblest creatures on the earth Are bettered by thy loving sympathy Think not to find a Paradise beyond.

Give of thy love, nor wait to know the worth Of what thou lovest; and ask no returning. And wheresoe'er thy pathway leads on earth, There thou shalt find the lamp of love-light burning.

Divine the Powers that on this trio wait. Supreme their conquest, over Time and Fate. Love, Work, and Faith - these three alone are great.

There is no balking genius. Only death can silence it or hinder.

It is easy enough to be virtuous When nothing tempts you to stray; When without or within No voice of sin Is luring your soul away. But it is only a negative virtue until it is tried by fire. For the soul that is worth the treasures of the earth is the soul that resists desire.

Let the dream go. Are there not other dreams In vastness of clouds hid from thy sight That yet shall gild with beautiful gold gleams, And shoot the shadows through and through with light? What matters one lost vision of the night? Let the dream go! ...

I like the roar of cities. In the mart, Where busy toilers strive for place and gain, I seem to read humanity's great heart, And share its hopes, its pleasures, and its pain.

No fate could rob us of our own-- No circumstance can make it less; What time removes was but a loan, For what was ours we still possess.

Just a little every day That's the way Children learn to read and write Bit by bit and mite by mite.

All roads that lead to God are good.

All the past is not worth one today.

Do you wish the world were happy? Then remember day by day, just to scatter seeds of kindness as you pass along the way. . . .

For here lies the pleasure of living: In taking God's bounties, and giving The gifts back again.

Talk health. The dreary, never-changing tale Of mortal maladies is worn and stale. You cannot charm, or interest, or please By harping in that minor chord, disease. Say you are well, or all is well with you, And God shall hear your words and make them true.